


Draw The Eye

by MountainRose



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose
Summary: Jaskier does his best to save a princess, the only way he knows.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 105





	Draw The Eye

The Queen's daughter is the focus of this revel, so it's her Jaskier bows to once he has greeted the queen. 

The alderman may have employed him, and the Queen is who he needs to please, but the princess--

Fragile as a porcelain cup, eyes on fire with ... Jaskier cannot see it, through the sharp sparkle, too bright for the braziers lighting her. 

He is here for her. It's her revel. She is here to choose a king. 

She must hate it. 

He leans close enough to be heard and not over heard. 

"Your highness. What can I play for you tonight?"

"Play what you will, bard." 

She's not paying him the slightest attention, eyes fixed on the long tables below them, the throng of idiot lords already drunken and loud and repulsive. More focused on their rivalries and petty squabbles than the evenings purpose.

"Your highness... Do you want their eyes on you?" He whispers, face mild and pleasant, following her gaze and being careful to keep a strict distance between himself and her throne. The guards beside the dias watch closely. "Do you want them to fight for you?"

She's listening now, hand trembling and knuckles white.

"No. You've no interest in these cads, hm?" He plucks his lute, a minor chord perking a few nearby ears. 

"Then sit at ease, Princess. I can make you invisible in a crowd like this. Sit, drink. Watch." 

She finally glances at him and ahh... Dear Pavetta. Her eyes are too wide and too wet, too open. Jaskier nods and the next chord is bright and rippling as spring water.

"I will keep them occupied until he arrives then." 

"The twelfth bell, bard," she chokes, hand sudden and brutally tight on his wrist. 

His heart sinks; that is a greater wish than he can promise. "I will play my finest. Destiny be with us." 

Her hand is gone, her sharp eyes fixed back forwards over the heads of the irrelevant suitors. 

He picks up the tune to Fishmongers Daughter, ribald and distracting. By the time he's at the accompanying musicians, they're picking at the tune in time and with brief looks, he launches into the song. 

He draws every eye, throws winks at the ribald lords, and pours all he has into whipping them into song. 

Pavetta, porcelain and trembling, is ignored. 

But her eyes remain sharp and distant.

Even the most fragile cup will cut if you break it. 


End file.
